Attitude Adjustment
by Muse24
Summary: When Dean can't stop being disrespectful and then almost unspeakable during a case Sam has to step in and make his concerns and authority known. Contains spanking of an adult! If this bothers you please don't read or comment!
1. Chapter 1

**No spoilers this time! This is a completely made up scenario :)**

**I do not own any of the characters in this story.**

**This is a story that contains spanking! Please turn back now if you feel you might be offended! **

He was frustrated. It was one of those cases, those damn cases, where nothing was making any sense and he was done with it! Calling Bobby was a failure seeing as he hadn't even heard of anything that killed this rapidly and with such a random pattern. Dean had given him all the facts, everything him and Sam knew up till this point, and he had pretty plainly told them they were on their own.

Sam was researching non stop and had also been feeling more then a little annoyed with a whole lot of nothing showing up. He eyed his brother from his laptop, one hand in his hair.

"Dean will you slow down for a second, pacing around the room like that is just making me more anxious." He sighed and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "What could we be missing?"

Dean stopped at Sam's request but sent him a nasty little look, clearly showing it wasn't because Sam asked but more because he reminded him that he was going to stop anyway. He circled around and sat on the bed, squinting and raising his chin, trying to read the words on the screen.

"Well maybe if you found something useful that might be a start. You keep digging up old stories and hearsay, those aren't facts Sammy. We need solid evidence, not some rumor mumbo jumbo."

Sam turned in his chair to look at Dean, an incredulous expression on his face. "Dean, we live off of this mumbo jumbo. Not sure if you remember, but we hunt boogie monsters and ghosts. The legends of a town are probably the best thing we have to go off of. What's the matter with you lately anyway?"

Dean scoffed. "What's the matter with me? You're the one that picked this one, I really think you should take the blame for all the bullshit we've gone through so far. Actually, I really think you should apologize to me." At that he crossed his arms over his chest and settled a gaze of expectancy upon his obviously irate brother.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam waited for just a split second in case Dean was about to flash one of his mischievous grins and throw in a 'I had you going there' but nothing was forthcoming. Sam set his jaw and tried to slow his heart rate. He finally tore his gaze from his infuriating brother and began typing again.

"I have a lead, a woman, she's been on the blogs for the monster they think is living here." Sam visibly tensed, waiting for Dean to have some smart ass comment that would push him over the line, but continued quickly. "Her husband was one of the first victims of the latest string of murders."

Dean stood up and grabbed his jacket, "Alright, finally, it only took two days Sammy. If you try even a little bit less you might be able to hit the world record for most useless." At that he was out the door, Sam not but two raging steps behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

As they pulled up to the house Sam had to lean over and turn the blaring radio down, 'You Shook Me All Night Long' was getting attention from everyone including one too many obviously grieving families.

"Hey! You know the rules of the car Sammy. Besides, it's a rule of life, a man never touches another man's radio..."

"Dean shut up! Are you crazy? Look around you! So many people have lost so much in this neighborhood and you want to come riding up in here blasting AC/DC and then expect this lady to let us into her house AND believe we're FBI?"

They were all good points and Dean even knew how stupid it was. But this just wasn't his day and Sam was definitely not going to be the person that lectured him about anything anyway. He was older and obviously wiser, so his decisions were his own to make.

"Oh come on Sam, this is what makes me Dean! I can live my life the way I want while lying to people's faces AND have them believe me. It's part of the awesome factor that comes with the title."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, and then got out of the car, slamming the door. Hard.

Dean shrugged at Sam's obvious denial and got out.

They both approached the door, Dean coming up behind Sam right after he knocked. He leaned over and whispered, "I hope she's hot." Sam rolled his eyes and prayed for patience. The door opened.

"Can I help you?" She was pretty but at the same time, looked horrible. Her eyes had bags under them and were obviously red from crying. Her hair was a mess and partly plastered to her forehead. She managed a small smile, but it was damaged and frail. Sam took out his badge, as did Dean.

"FBI ma'am. We need to ask you some questions" Sam hesitated only slightly, his brow furrowing with empathy, "about your husband. Can we come in?"

She sighed and looked off past them both, lost in a thought. Her eyes became more glossy but she quickly nodded and let them inside.

"I'm sure you've already talked to the police, but we are doing our own investigation and require some information. You might have already given it to them and I apologize if you have to repeat yourself. It's necessary and I'm sure you understand." He wanted to put an arm around her and help her grieve but he knew he couldn't. They sat down at the dining room table, Dean across from her and Sam at her left.

Dean started in. "Tell us what happened. It was Friday night, right?" She nodded and looked up at Dean, not really focusing on him but more on the horrors she was about to reveal, again.

"He was supposed to be home around 9, he had to stay late because the case took up most of the time that day and he wanted to make sure to return some phone calls. I had dinner ready, I knew he wouldn't be long. He even called when he was leaving, telling me he was on his way home." She chocked back a sob, putting her hand to her chest and focusing hard to calm her breathing. Then she continued. She told them the whole story. The way he didn't show up and then when she panicked and called the police. How they searched until morning but found nothing. And then she went to the bedroom to grab a light nap and he was there, in the bed, in pieces. At that point she burst into tears.

"I know it's hard ma'am, but we need to hear details. His heart was gone, but was anything else missing? Or were there any strange markings? Did you notice a weird smell, like rotting eggs maybe?" She was escalating at this point, trying to answer Dean's questions but sobbing furiously at having to remember details of her dead husband.

"I need you to answer the questions. If you don't tell me what I need to know we can't figure anything out!" Dean was starting to growl through his onslaught, balling up one of his fists. Sam knew it was hard not getting anything they really needed but Dean was going too far. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and said his name softly but with a calm warning.

Dean shrugged his hand away. "Were there any markings, like maybe a burn of some symbols anywhere? Did his body seem fresh, like he was killed recently?" She just stared at him in horror, her hand over her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Please, I can't do this. Please, I don't know. I just...I don't know!" She put her head in both of her hands now, defeated and far past any kind of questioning. It was sickening how Dean had handled it.

Sam was enraged.

He stood up and grabbed Dean by the crook of his elbow, yanking him up out of his seat. He forced him across the dining room and shoved him into the hallway.

"What were you thinking? You upset her past the point of anything, we've lost her. There was no reason to do that to her Dean, that was heartless."

"Oh it was heartless? Really? I wonder how we save all these people when being heartless is on the top of the no-no list. You've got to be kidding me with this Sam, stop being such a girl. I mean-"

"Look at her." Sam stepped aside and let Dean see the broken woman laying at the kitchen table before them, sobs softly escaping her tortured form. His ego quickly faded and his superior attitude was replaced with building regret.

"I didn't mean for her to be so upset..." He trailed off, averting his eyes from his seriously pissed off brother. He continued waiting in that same position as Sam went to the girl, put a hand on her back, apologized for his 'heartless' partner, and returned to the hallway, pointing at the door and then silently following Dean to the car.

He held out his hand and Dean dropped the keys in his palm, not wanting to fight with Sam when he was in such a state. He silently, which was extremely rare, got into the passenger seat and didn't even touch the radio on the ride back to the hotel.


	3. Chapter 3

Not really wanting to confront a raging giant, Dean casually made his way inside and sat on the bed, taking off his boots. Sam stormed into the room, trying his best to ignore Dean.

Dean went about his normal night, glancing at his brother as much as he could without being caught. Sam wasn't letting this go and he knew it. Any second now he would start freaking out.

"Dean we need to talk." There it was.

"Oh yeah?" He spit toothpaste into the sink and walked back out into the room. "Cuz I'm really tired and we gotta get an early start tomorrow. Breakfast is already sounding awesome."

"No." Sam set Dean with a very serious look. A little too serious for his liking.

"No what? You know you want a waffle."

"No you aren't going to bed yet."

Dean stripped off his pants, leaving himself in boxers and a wife-beater. "It's over Sam, it's done. Yeah yeah I'm sorry I made her cry and that was really shitty of me but it's done and we can't dwell on it."

Sam had his mind made up. It was going to take everything in him, even if he felt he had all the reason in the world, to do what Dean needed him to do. He took a deep breath, studying his brother who thought his premeditated nonchalance was actually fooling someone.

"This is what's gonna happen. I'm stepping outside for a minute. I'm gonna head over to the row of trees on the far side of the parking lot. I'll cut a small thin branch and bring it back inside. As soon as I close the door and turn around I want you there" he pointed at the dresser, "waiting for me."

Dean took a second to clear his head and take it all in. Was Sam really saying what he thought he was saying? Well it wouldn't work and he couldn't make him do a god damned thing. "You and what army are going to get me to do this, huh Sammy?" Dean plastered up a smirk to try and hide his nervous swallow only moments before.

"Oh I can tell you what army." Sam stood up and headed towards Dean. He got within inches of his face and kept his voice low and dark. "The army of guilt, Dean. I know you better then you know yourself, come on man, you can't stand it. It's eating you alive, knowing you hurt that girl. And I'll take all that pain away, but you have to go through this first. Because you messed up today. End of story." Sam turned and walked out, letting the door swing closed behind him.

Dean's mouth was dry. He closed his eyes slowly and turned to look over at the dresser.

Sam found what he was looking for and began to strip it with his pocket knife. He watched the sky as he thought about his older brother. Really Dean had it harder then he ever let on. He was always the one that had to set an example, to protect Sam, to lead and have someone follow him. Tonight he was gonna help him relinquish control. And he was also going to show him that no matter how much more superior you think you are, everyone makes mistakes. Even the infamous Dean Winchester could get his ass whipped every now and then.

Sam nodded and strengthened his resolve, stepping down off the curb and heading back across the street, a wicked switch in hand.

He stared at the ground as he opened the door, turning quickly and closing it behind him. He held his breath as he glanced over at the dresser.

Dean was there, bent over just as instructed, with his arms crossed out in front of him, his head buried in them. Sam couldn't help but steal a small smile over the triumph, it was good to be listened to for once.

He came beside Dean, noticing how his brother tensed as he moved closer. It was ok, he wanted him to feel some fear. He was going to throw his empathetic self into the back of his mind tonight and prove to Dean that certain things wouldn't be overlooked. He gave the switch some practice strokes, making sure he could control its strength. Satisfied he spoke.

"We're going to 50. You wont move out of position." There was no room for further discussion and so Sam put a hand on Dean's back and brought the switch down hard. Dean ground his teeth so hard he felt like they were about to shatter in his mouth. He had only been switched one time before. And curiously, his father hadn't been involved.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***Flashback**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Dean was in high school. He was in his junior year but none of that really mattered. They only stayed in a town for a couple weeks or so, a month maybe at the most. School was just something you attended because society said it was right. And the boys needed to blend in as much as they could. It was a way for some normalcy to be included in the Winchester way of life. Dean hated it. Everything but the girls, that is. Sam loved it. School was just something he always took to, knowledge was his ultimate power. Giving him a research paper was like feeding sugar cubes to a horse. And of course while Sam was over at the library, reading up on his latest assignment after school, Dean had other plans. He was in detention for something minor, ignoring his teacher to draw hearts on some girls hand or something. The teacher was for chemistry, his name was Mr. Matthews. He was one of the younger teachers, mid thirties or so, and he had stepped out to run some copies for a test while leaving his mostly behaving delinquents sitting quietly at their desks.

A couple of the girls brought out their phones and started texting when he left and the others started talking, taking the opportunity to loosen up a bit. Dean stood up and headed up front.

"Hey what are you doing?" A kid, Marty, asked.

"Ah, nothin you need to worry yourself about, Martster. Just havin some fun." Dean casually slid across Mr. Matthews desk and fell into a crouch, opening his file cabinet. Ah! Just what he had suspected. He had spied Mr. Matthews over at his cabinet before and had sworn he heard the sound of a dial turning. It was a safe. And the contents would be more then exciting. He only opened it when they were at their labs, conducting experiments with hostile liquids. He would handle those specific chemicals himself and give each student exactly the right amount and pair them up in non-toxic mixes. Today would be the day Dean was in charge of experimentation. And it was going to be awesome.

It only took him a second to open the safe, he was an expert after all, and he brought the delicate vials to a lab nearby. At this point every head was turned his way and as he took out various beakers and unstopped the vials, every kid was out of his or her seat, staring wide eyed over his shoulder.

"You know you could get in a lot of trouble for this."

"Yeah, I mean, it's illegal or something..."

"What if you start a fire? Oh my god, my parents would kill me!"

Dean wasn't hearing a thing. His eyes were fixed on the prize and his mouth was turned up in a sinful grin of pure delight. He didn't really pay attention to what the mixtures were called, they were in that weird code anyway, and he never studied for the periodic table quizzes. So he was leaving it to intuition. He poured two of them together and then stepped back.

Nothing happened at first and it was really a little disappointing. But after a second the mix started to bubble. And then it started to hiss. And soon a light haze of smoke was billowing out the top. He let his infamous grin slide back onto his face and turned to face his peers.

"You see? Chemistry doesn't have to always be boring." He began to laugh until something made him duck down. It was an explosion, at least it sounded like one. Really all that happened was the glass of the beaker was under so much pressure from the battling chemicals inside it that it burst apart. Glass went everywhere but really didn't cause too much damage. Just a mess to clean up.

Just as Dean was about to make the evidence of his tampering disappear, Mr. Matthews showed up. He froze. And so did everyone else. He looked slowly to the mess, Dean wincing, the wide eyed students, very familiar looking test tubes, and then the open filing cabinet. He set his jaw and locked eyes with the one he knew was guilty.

"Mr. Winchester." Dean scratched the back of his head and shrugged. Mr. Matthews pointed at the door. "Everyone else out!" The kids were more then happy to leave, scrambling out the door one after the other.

Marty shook his head and patted Dean on the shoulder. "Good luck." And then he was gone too.


	4. Chapter 4

Mr. Matthews approached the scene of the crime, obviously analyzing the chemicals used. Dean was studying his eyes, growing steadily more nervous as his chemistry teacher grew steadily more angry. It seemed his intuition was right, this stuff was badass.

"Dean" he said it so softly, "do you know what you could have accomplished with these if you used a little more?"

"Uh...not really. Something pretty cool I'm guessing?" He turned towards Mr. Matthews, a cheeky smile on his face.

"A bomb." He picked up a piece of glass and examined it, casually adding, "A bomb that would have seriously injured or killed you, all of the other kids here, and probably direly damaged this classroom and most of this half of the building." He took a deep breath and set the glass down, abruptly slamming his palm on the table and barking out, "There's a reason why I keep this stuff locked up Dean!"

For a moment Dean let fear show in his eyes as he jumped at his teacher's tone. But as usual he smoothed his features out and shrugged as if there was nothing he could do. "So I guess you should keep stuff like that in a place where 11th graders can't pick the lock." He chuckled a small congratulations to himself and stepped towards his backpack, scooping it up off of the floor and started to walk past Mr. Matthews. "Sorry about the mess, it was my first try at being the unabomber." A hand gripping his arm stopped him.

"Do you know what could happen to you if I inform the principle of this?"

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling his arm out of his teacher's grasp. "Oh he'll probably suspend me or somethin, what's your point?"

"No Dean..." he shook his head sadly, "he wont. He will have you put in juvie. He'll put this on your record, making for damn sure no high school will take you, no matter where you go. It'll be hell, Dean." He had started to walk away, rummaging behind his desk as he talked. Dean moved a little closer, speaking loudly.

"I'm sure you've noticed that I really don't care, teach. I'm not real interested in this whole 'education' thing. It's not my style." He tried to get a closer look at what Mr. Matthews was doing. By the time he had approached his desk the teacher had found what he was looking for. It was a thin branch, maybe a foot and a half, and he was holding it, advancing towards Dean with purpose.

"Right now it might not seem important to you, Mr. Winchester, but your future is a very crucial part of moving on with your life. You wont only screw up your chances but you'll bring so much grief and heartache to your family. Your brother. Your father. Do you see my point?" He stopped in front of him, the branch hanging casually at his side.

"Well...um...sure, I guess. Makes sense. So, uh, what's that?" Dean pointed at the stick, biting his lower lip, entranced by the object that Mr. Matthews had found rather then the lecture he was trying to give.

"Technically, a hickory branch. Today, a hickory switch. I had kept it after an outdoor experiment, thinking it might come in handy. And it will." He reached out and grabbed Dean's wrist.

"Oh no no no, that's not gonna happen." Dean tried to pull back but Mr. Matthews had him in a vice grip. His matter of fact tone quickly turned dark with his student's consistent lack of respect.

"I am not going to get the principle involved. This mess is going to disappear and no one is going to know how dangerous it was. And you, Dean Winchester, are going to stop mouthing off to me and let go of your tough guy front. Today you have put yourself and your peers in danger, and not to mention, completely betrayed my trust by breaking into my safe. I really don't feel anymore explanation or evidence needs to be given. Now stop fighting me or I will whip you bare, I swear it." The promise held in those eyes was enough to silence Dean and melt his resolve like butter. When Mr. Matthews yanked on his wrist and caused him to lose his balance, catching himself on a desk, he didn't give any resistance. His teacher then came to his side and proceeded in swiftly putting his arm around his waist, causing Dean to be caught in a bent over position whether he fought or not, and gave him the worst whipping of his young life.

Every stroke was hard and determined. The switch was so incredibly painful it felt like a knife slicing into his screaming backside. He fought like he'd never fought before. Determined at first, he managed to slightly propel himself off the desk only to be slammed back down as Mr. Matthews let up for a brief moment to secure him once more. He tried kicking but was switched viciously on the thighs for it and so didn't ever attempt that again. His efforts to escape were getting sloppy and he was starting to panic. His vision was blurring and his breathing was becoming labored as he held his breath through the initial mind numbing pain and then let it out only to yelp as the next blow fell. After every possible idea falling on deaf ears Dean did the only thing left to do.

He started to cry.

And once he let himself do that, all the tears quickly followed. By the end of it he was chanting 'I'm sorry' through hitched broken sobs and didn't even notice Mr. Matthews step back and toss the branch to the other side of the room. He let Dean cry, propping himself against a desk, watching him. He knew that comforting Dean was the last thing he should indulge in, no matter how much he wanted to let him know he took it well. He stayed long enough to make sure his student was going to be ok and then he left.

After that, Dean had never respected a teacher more in his life. Maybe it was because he was held up to standards he needed to have, or maybe it was because he reminded him of his father. Whatever it was, Dean knew he needed it and was grateful, in his own kind of way. And that night when he got home late to a questioning Sammy, he couldn't hide his discomfort. Reluctantly Dean had told Sam about the whipping and Sam had secretly smiled at the thought of Dean being punished when he acted up. Even thought dad wasn't there all the time it was good to know someone still cared about them.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***Present**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Dean jerked at the next stroke, hissing through his teeth. He wanted to be stoic, to be brave. But no matter how old he got or how much he thought he had matured past the pain of a whipping, his ass said otherwise. And this time he had barely any protection, Sam catching him in his boxers just before bed. And Dean knew Sam was using the switch for a reason. He had seen what an effect it had on him that night in high school. Damn him for his perfect memory and psychological mind trips. Sam knew what using the switch would bring up and he was right.

"Damnit Sammy, let up a little!" Dean begged, the strokes falling constantly, not even a second of a break in between.

Sam pressed down harder on Dean's back, the stronger of the two, his strength of purpose also giving him an iron edge. "You haven't even begun to pay for what you did today, Dean, and you know it. So would you try to stop being such a 'girl' and take it like a man."

Dean growled and then yelped as a stronger lash got him on the under curve of his ass. He was twisting around now, trying his best to escape the little twig that was dominating the shit outta him. He tried to keep count the best he could, thinking they were somewhere around 30 or so. But as the beating continued, his hands shot out, trying to cover the target. To Dean's surprise, Sam stopped. But only for a moment. Only long enough for him to eyeball Dean's palms and lineup a stroke, slicing him cleanly across the tender flesh of his hands.

The reaction was tremendous, Dean snatching his hands back underneath his stomach and moaning for a second and then finding outrage inside himself and forcing Sam back a few steps, breaking free. He was breathing hard and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He held one hand out to stop Sam from coming any closer and kept the other locked tight under an armpit, squeezing the sting away.

"Oh no buddy boy, you don't come near me! We're done and it hurts enough. I'm sorry and all that, please just stop, ok?" At the beginning of his rebellion Dean was sure he would convince Sam to stop, so his words were harshly superior. He was telling Sam what to do again, making it known that he called the shots. And by the way his younger brother looked, his cool expression of 'are you done yet?' made Dean immediately regret his actions, cursing himself silently.

"So we can do this one of two ways."

"Come on Sam..."

"One, you get back over the dresser and you do it fast."

"But I-"

"Two, I pin you down wherever I can and it's worse, a lot worse. Because you're pissing me off Dean, and I really need you to stop."

Dean almost stomped his foot like a child but instead scrubbed his hand over his face, chancing glances Sam's way to see if he happened to have a change of heart. He looked regretfully at the dresser, just not being able to force himself to do it again. Maybe he could attempt to talk his way out of it. Sam was such a softy anyway, he couldn't resist Dean's charm for long. But just as he was about to turn around and try his best puppy dog look, Sam was beside him, grabbing him by the arm and twisting it none too gently behind his back. He marched him over to one of the beds and unceremoniously shoved him down onto it. Sam maneuvered until he had Dean flat on his stomach, Sam's knee in the center of his back, his arm twisted around and pinned to the bed. And as Dean yelled curses into the mattress Sam gave him a brutal angry whipping.

By the way Dean was reacting his brother knew just how hard to hit. He knew that Dean thought him reckless and wild, working off the simple fact that Dean wouldn't listen. But really he had pretty good control of the whole thing. He wouldn't risk actually hurting his brother, not in a way that would leave a lasting scar. But he was hell bent on making him pay the price that would make the guilt go away. And at the same time, teach him a little humility. Killing two birds with one stone, or one stick rather.

Every time Dean tried to kick, a pretty popular reaction since nothing else could move, Sam gave him one warning and then sliced him across the thighs. By the third time of being punished for desperately kicking out, Sam could hear Dean let out a small sob. He stopped switching him and stood up, lifting Dean to his feet in the process.

"Are you ready to behave?" Sam asked, watching Dean stare at the floor and sniff, nodding almost imperceptibly.

So Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder and steered him towards the dresser, gently pushing him into position. Dean almost melted over the wood, putting his head in his arms. He was quiet but started fresh tears when Sam announced that he still had 10 more coming, the detour to the bed not being included in the count.

And at that he began his last lecture.

***SWAT*** You do not ***SWAT*** push a witness ***SWAT*** over the line like that again ***SWAT*** ever ***SWAT*** and you don't insult me ***SWAT*** because you're frustrated with a case ***SWAT*** and most of all ***SWAT*** when you've earned a whipping Dean ***SWAT* **you take it without throwing a fit! ***SWAT***

Dean was sobbing earnestly now, making breathless apologies and repenting for the way he had been acting all day. Dean was lost in the pain, twitching as the strokes continued to smart even after they stopped falling. He was a mess and put his fists up in front of his face when Sam pulled him upright, hiding his break down from his brother.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, proving to Dean he was forgiven and it was done. After a second of observation on Sam's part he steered Dean towards the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Then he walked over to his bed, took off his shoes, and fell heavily onto it. His arms were crossed behind his head when Dean came back out. He didn't look at Sam and when he got into his bed he carefully lowered himself onto his stomach. Sam could see some of the angry red welts on Dean's thighs as he reached over to turn off the lamp. Just before the lights when out Sam couldn't help himself.

"You gonna be ok Dean?"

Dean was silent for a moment then he answered.

"Do I look like a pansy, Sam? Just keep feelings time to yourself, ok Dr. Phil?"

Yeah, he was gonna be alright.


End file.
